


Masks of a Different Kind

by SandriaC (SandrC)



Series: Balance My Deeds With My Misdeeds [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, Backstory rich, F/F, I really like the gay trees, Petals to the Metal spoilers, Slow Build, whoops its multichap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandriaC
Summary: Cop and Robber. Ram and Raven. Hurley and Sloane. They were so many things but in the end they were in love. It took a Artemis-damn mess of time to get to that point, but they were there and they were going to go with it. Even if this was the end.(Artemis she hoped it wasn't the end but she was tantalizing close and she could taste the cherry blossoms on her lips.)





	1. Cop and Robber

**Author's Note:**

> Very gay. Hella gay. I really love Hurley/Sloane, okay?
> 
> Also I like writing backstory shit.
> 
> (whoops this is longer than i thought...ah well)

Hurley couldn't remember a time when there was no Sloane in her life. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, looking back on it now, as she raced against her for what could be the very last time.

* * *

 

It had been a job at first. Stop the thief known as the Raven from robbing the house of the advisor to the governor. Get in, disarm, disable, get out. That was all she needed to do.

She didn't count on the Raven being so damn alluring.

Hurley flipped over the flung form of one of her officers. "You can't resist forever Raven!"

The Raven, eyes glittering brightly beneath the mask that earned her her moniker, laughed. It's like bells chiming, light and airy. There was no malice there; not even in the crooked grin that peeked beneath her mask's beak. "What? Who says I'm going to continue to resist?"

"Don't you— _wha_ —?!" Hurley stammered. It wasn't her first rodeo—far from it, she was a seasoned officer and lieutenant to Captain Captain Bane—but she had never encountered anyone like the Raven. She was self-assured and somehow still jovial. She also didn't seem to be hurting anyone that attacked her; just repelling them away and disabling them. A 'gentleman thief' if you will. Practically unheard of in the rough-and-tumble alleys of Goldcliff, where force speaks more than words.

"Speechless?" The Raven winked and Hurley could feel the shame streaking her cheeks, then she whipped her hand outward and cried a spell word. A large gust of wind lashed out, stirring the dust around her into a small storm and obscuring her exit.

As the dust settled, a flurry of black feathers fluttered down to rest in her wild hair and Hurley felt something stir in her. Something akin to desire and just adjacent of envy. Something dangerous. Something that would undo her.

Something that would remake her.

She didn't allow this failure to stop her. She pursued the Raven with a voracious appetite, whether or not Bane told her to. He admonished her at first; she wasn’t supposed to be focusing on the Raven. She had other work to do. She was needed elsewhere. Then he relented, putting her on the Raven case until she was dealt with properly.

"That way," he had said, "no one can say I'm being lax with you."

"Thank you Captain," Hurley ducked low, lower still as her Captain had a moderate height advantage. "I promise I'll bring her down."

"Hey, Hurley?" She met his eyes; he looked grim, his mouth a solemn line. "Don't let this consume you. We still need you here."

 _Goldcliff needs you_ , his eyes said.

 _I need this_ , her own replied.

* * *

 

She stalked the Raven in the streets, gathering information in plainclothes and moving unseen, using her monk skills to avoid getting caught by some of the local gangs hoping to recruit her. She learned more about Goldcliff than the Raven then; about the poverty and the corruption. About the rich and the poor—and the huge gap between them. About the races. About the gangs.

Then she found the Raven, after all the learning and looking.

"You're hard to catch," Hurley said.

"I try to avoid trouble when I can," the Raven replied. She was rifling through a chest inside one of the manors. The magical alarm outside blared but the attack dogs were sleeping soundly. No one else was around. It was the perfect time for a confrontation. Hurley was taking advantage of that.

"Robbing people isn't avoiding trouble," she shot back.

"The rich aren't people. They're monsters." It was matter-of-fact. To the Raven, this explanation made more sense than anything else in the world.

"They have feelings! They have needs! You can't just take everything they have!"

"They have their manors and their trust funds. Me taking what they have here is petty thievery. Just a bucket from the ocean of wealth." She didn't care and she didn't bother to stop. Hurley hadn't attacked either. It was unusual. She had always been an attack first and talk later kind of person. Get in, disarm, disable, get out. Her mantra. Her modus operandi.

Why had the Raven changed all this?

"It's grand larceny!"

"No one was hurt."

"What do you even use this for?"

The Raven turned to face her, eyes glittering beneath her mask. Her mouth was pitched downward as she paused her thieving. "Don't you know already?"

 _Did she_ ? _Did_ she know why the Raven stole from the rich and no one else?

Why the Raven took _only_ from their houses and not their purses?

Why the Raven drove in the races on the outskirts of town?

Why she was talking to her now instead of just fleeing like before?

_Because—_

Hurley had turned away then, unable to continue to make eye contact. The way the Raven's eyes bored into her own made her stomach turn. She felt...guilty. Why would she feel guilty? What had she done?!

What had she _not_ done?

Without another word, the Raven wrapped up her loot and jumped out of the second story window, her cloak flapping behind her like wings. Hurley didn't see her activate the spell woven into the feathers that adorned the outside of it. Hurley didn't see her land softly on the ground. Hurley didn't see her look back at the window she had escaped from, back at her. Hurley didn't see her dart down the street and into the night. Hurley didn't see her smile softly as she went.

Hurley took the full brunt of the homeowners wrath when they came back from their soirée and found their home in a state of disarray. It was unbecoming of the lieutenant of the Goldcliff militia to let a criminal go! How _dare_ she wait there and not pursue the Raven?! How _dare_ she allow her to make off with their hard-earned belongings? How _dare_ she continue to say nothing? They would speak to her superior, they swore, and would have her lashed for her insubordination.

They would have her punished for failing to protect their home.

They would have her whipped for letting the Raven go.

Captain Bane, of course, did not allow this.

(He did, however, put her on probation. "You need to let it go," he warned. His face was less stern than it was worried, lines creasing the corner of his eyes that looked deeper than when she first started chasing the Raven. "You need to let her go and get back to work. Goldcliff needs you."

 _I need you_ , his eyes pleaded.

Hers, however, were steely as she lied. "I understand. I'll make sure to return to my duties, sir.”

* * *

 

She pursued the Raven still, just...more _discreetly_ this time. She followed her around town and observed. What had she missed? What had she refused to see?

She saw the Raven, in plainclothes, no mask or anything, play with neighborhood children, laughing heartily as she gently tossed the hoop for one of them. She saw the Raven, in plainclothes, buy fresh bread from backstreet markets and give it to beggars a few alleys away. She saw the Raven, in plainclothes, skirt up buildings and just watch the sun set over the cliff that gave Goldcliff it's name.

She saw the Raven as a person and was more confused than ever.

They were standing on the flat roof of one the buildings in the Goldcliff projects, the Raven's back to the sun while Hurley had the full force of it searing her eyes. She didn't let on that her eyes were watering; refusing to allow the Raven any sort of satisfaction in catching her with her proverbial pants down, so to speak. It was one of the Raven's favorite places to spend the afternoon and Hurley had set up an ambush but—

The Raven had caught her, a soft smile on her lips and a golden apple in her hands. She brandished the apple at Hurley and winked. "Hungry? All that snooping must tire you right out."

She blinked at the offered fruit and turned her gaze upward to the Raven. _Artemis_ she was so damn _human_ now that the mask was off and she wasn't committing crimes (at the moment). The Raven's hooked nose crinkled as she smiled, bunching up at the crook in her bridge where it had been broken and reset and Hurley felt sick to her stomach. She _hated_ that she was fucking humanizing a perp. She hated that it was so damn _easy_ with her.

 _Fuck_.

"No thanks," she rebuffed the offer of food. "I don't eat stolen goods."

"Bought," the Raven supplied, nudging her with the apple.

"With _stolen_ money."

"With my winnings. _Not_ stolen," she smirked and _fuck_ her eyes became small slits of amber as her cheekbones lifted, dark, long lashes brushing her skin.

"Still illegal," Hurley retorted. A technicality but Artemis-dammit if she wasn't going to be as stubborn as fucking possible here.

"Fine. Call me a lazy tailor." She bit into the apple and, shit, she had a small overbite and her canines were a little bit longer than the rest of her teeth. She pursed her thin lips as she chewed and raised her eyebrows as Hurley glowered in silence. "Suit yourself," she supplied, finishing her metaphor.

"Do you stalk every thief you meet?" She had moved slightly while Hurley was caught up in thought, strafing so that the light cast by the sun dragged her silhouette to the building just left of her. Hurley adjusted her stance and her eyes thanked her, the light from the harsh Faerûn sun no longer blinding her.

"No."

"You had so much to say that night. What happened?"

Her stomach lurched.

_You. This town. How broken everything is. How I perpetuate a system that allows for children to starve while elders grow fat._

Artemis she was going to vomit.

_I let this happen and I don't stop any of it. You try so hard and you're a 'villain'. Fuck. Fuck! I'm so damn useless, aren't I? In the face of the world I'm just a fucking coward. I can't even say a word in response. You're not even accusing me and I'm silent as death._

Thoughts flooded her head and words caught in her throat.

_I want to change it but I can't. I'm powerless to stop the problem at its source, even though I'm at its source._

Her mouth opened and then closed shut.

_I'm just a piece of a problem. I don't try hard enough. I'm a failure._

The Raven looked at her quizzically.

_A cog in a machine. Just a fucking piece of the puzzle. One more stepping stone for the rich and corrupt._

She couldn't breathe. Fuck, she couldn't breathe!

_A simulacrum born from a mold cast far before my time. A product of my generation and the one before me and the one before them. Of years of oppression and censorship. A branded toy for the elite._

"I—" the word clipped, harsh against her teeth and sticky inside her mouth. A lie? An excuse? What could she say? What would she say? Artemis, she was drowning in her thoughts.

"Hey, just breathe, okay? Look at me. I'm here. Just breathe in and out."

The Raven's voice sank, a stone in the mire of her fear. The ripples it caused lapped at the shores of her self. She breathed in time with her instructions.

_In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In._

**_Out_ ** _._

"I'm here. You're here. It's going to be fine. I'm here." She hadn't realized that the Raven was holding her now, running slender fingers through her bushy mane, making soothing noises as she sat on the warm brick roof.

" _I_ —"

"I'm here. Just breathe."

She hadn't realized how much she had bottled up. Her fears, her apprehension, her suspicion, her fury, all corked into a keg of cider that was shaken and then left to sit in heat, fermenting and fizzing until the internal pressure caused the keg to burst.

But there, in the deluge of her breakdown the Raven crouched, apple long forgotten, soothing her.

Having soothed her.

_The Raven._

And her.

"I _can't_ ," Hurley croaked as she pushed the Raven away.

"Why not? What's wrong with someone helping another person in need?"

"You're not—"

"No mask. No one knows. Here I'm just me and you're just you. I'm not the Raven, just—"

"But I'm - I'm the militia's—"

"But you're scared and alone. What kind of person would I be if I didn't—"

"A criminal."

"Already there," the Raven laughed. It wasn't the bells and wind that charmed Hurley when they first met, mirth and amusement, but sorrow; a low thrum that burned and bit at Hurley's conscience.

"I didn't—"

"It doesn't matter." She let go of her and stood up, drawing to her full height. The rolling curves of her body were blacked out by the sun's bright light. She looked almost disappointed.

"But it obviously does," she insisted. She had to—the Raven had—

"Apparently not."

"I'm—"

"Don't apologize. Just... _don't_." The Raven turned away from her and walked towards the edge, preparing to abscond.

Hurley bit her tongue, flooding her mouth with copper and drawing her focus to the here and now. "My name is Hurley!"

She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes slanted still but more in a downwards fashion. "Congratulations _Hurley_." Then she leapt and was gone.

_Fuck._

_I fucked up_

* * *

 

She took a break from chasing the Raven for a while, going back to her proper duties as Goldcliff's lieutenant. She solved problems and stopped thieves like she did before...her. And for a while, she was distracted enough to not be bothered by the crushing weight in her chest.

Then there were whispers.

"I heard that the races have been less dangerous lately!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Apparently one of the best has been trying not to kill people!"

Hurley's ears perked. It was unusual for anyone who was a part of the races to even consider sparing their opponent s. It was kill or be killed out there, where the smallest mistake could cost you your life, and you could go tumbling under the treads of the cart behind you and thy was that.

"Which one was it? The Hammerheads?"

"Oh Apollo, _no_ ! They couldn't care if you lived or died. No, I think it was...some _bird_?"

" _Oh_! The Raven, right? Doesn't she race alone?"

"Only recently, after losing the Magpie to the Crickets. She's been doing well for a solo racer but I think with her decision to not kill and the increase in teams I don't think she'll survive for much longer."

Her stomach turned. Solo racers never really managed to survive past three or so races, depending on the stakes. If her intel was right—and she trusted Balrick as much as one could trust a mole—this next race was in the thousands as far as the first place prize. Possibly the tens of thousands but Balrick was a bit hammered when he got that info so it’s validity was in the air.

_She won't make it._

Artemis, she was weak.

Hurley didn't know where the Raven's garage was but she knew people who knew where her garage was and...persuading them was an easy matter.

(Just a simple word here and a threat there and the people buckled to her 'request' easily enough.)

She stepped into the Raven's garage with all the confidence she could muster, holding her head high and keeping a stiff upper lip. She wasn't stupid, far from it; when she went in, she went incognito. Her bushy hair was pulled into a manageable bun, in civvies that no one ever saw her wear, and a large ram-skull mask pulled low over her face, obscuring the mess of freckles and crooked underbite that would give her away in an instant. She wasn’t Hurley, she was the Ram, and she had a proposition for the Raven.

“Hello?” She leaned forward, craning so that she could see farther inside the ramshackle building that served for the Raven’s battlewagon garage. “Are you there?”

“Who’re you looking for?” Hurley jumped, a rare feat that only one person could get her to do. The Raven cocked her head as she leaned against the doorframe of her garage.

"That is—"

"This is private property," the Raven pressed.

"I have a proposition for you," Hurley tried.

" _Private_ ," she enunciated, " _property_."

"You're alone in the races," she pushed, "and I want to help."

"Who even _are_ you?" Hurley froze. The Raven was a thief. She was cunning and observant and fast. If she even considered her a thread, Hurley would be waking up with one hell of a headache and a sore pride.

She gave a thin-lipped smile, invisible beneath the lip of her ram-skull mask, and exhaled. "The Ram."

The Raven frowned, "You expect me to trust you and let you race with me on a whim but you won't tell me your name? How do I know you won’t stab me in the back?"

"Well the - the races are, y'know, _incognito_ , right? And I don't know you from Jack so, like, why should I trust you with _my_ identity either? You're name can't be _the Raven_ ," oh Artemis, she was blathering on now, why couldn't she stop?! "So for partnership purposes, at least until we get to know each other better, I'm the Ram and you're the Raven and that's that!"

The silence that followed felt like a roaring storm that lasted for a century. Hurley could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She was certain she was going to get caught. The Raven couldn't possibly not see through this weak disguise!

Finally, a reprieve in the wake of a torrent of anxiety, the Raven nodded. "Fair 'nuff. Seems a good business prospect for sure. How _ever_ —" Hurley caught the sigh as it half-escaped her mouth, "—you'll have to prove yourself." A chill ran down her spine as the Raven tilted her head in a very bird-like manner.

"O- _oh_?" _Voice, don't betray me_ , she prayed.

"Y'see, there's this _one little piece_ I need for the wagon for this upcoming race. Just a _tiny_ detail: a spoiler to reduce drag. I'm sure, as you've seen my races," she was pacing around Hurley now, a predator tasting the air around her prey, "that my rule is: go fast, don't kill. That usually works well enough but in the last race I was in, the Hamsters tore the front right off my vehicle after throwing me backwards. And that spoiler I had, that was one of the best at reducing drag." Hurley could see where this was going and she didn't like it one bit.

"Couldn't you make a new one?"

"Oh _heavens_ no! That spoiler was made by a tinsmith from my home and it was enchanted to boot! The likelihood of me getting my hands on another one of her works, enchanted or otherwise, is very slim. _She's dead_ ," the Raven supplied, "the tinsmith, that is. The enchanter is alive and well and _that_ , my dear Ram, is where you come in!"

" _A-ah_...m-my sincerest regrets for your loss..." This was heading very south very quickly.

The Raven laughed, again the chime of bells and wind, and waved her hand dismissively. "I didn't know her _personally_ so it's not that big of a deal. I'm sure her surviving family member thanks you though. But back to the matter at hand," _shit_ , "I need you to... _acquire_ a new spoiler from my _dear enchanter friend_."

"The— _uh_ —the word _friend_ seems to carry an awful lot of irony, Raven." _Diffuse the situation. Abort! Abort!_

"It's a one-sided sort of thing." She smiled and Hurley's heart beat faster—something she wasn't sure it was capable of at the time. "If you can acquire a spoiler of _these_ dimensions," the Raven slid a small scrap of paper with a few numbers scribbled on it, "then you can consider yourself as good as hired! If _not_ ," she shrugged nonchalantly, "then I'll have to miss this race and catch the next one. A pity but," she sighed dramatically, "I'll live."

"Wh-where does this enchanter live, or-or work?" _No. Bad Hurley! Stop this right now!_

"Upper Goldcliff. They operate discreetly out of their home but it's pretty obvious if you know the signs. There should be a mark on their door that looks like _this_ ," the Raven scrawled a mark that Hurley recognized as thieves cant for 'magic wares'. "Just understand that you're going to have to be _subtle_ . They don't deal with just anyone and are very shy when it comes to... _racers_. It's very hush-hush, their trade." The Raven winked and Hurley knew that was not-so-subtle-hinting at illegal activities.

"Will, ah, will I be paying through trade or gold _or—_?"

"They owe me one. Just procure the spoiler and you and I will be square as the Goldcliff militia." Hurley bristled but force out a weak chuckle.

"Ha ha ha...good one." She shifted and pocketed the paper with the dimensions for the spoiler on it. "I'll...ah...I'll be on my way to get that then."

"Oh! And don't let the militia catch you! Wearing a mask like that in the open paints a big ol' target on your back. Just some advice," the Raven supplied.

"Thank you."

" _N_ _o problem!_ " She waggled her fingers at Hurley and grinned. "Happy hunting!"

Hurley kept her head down and sighed heavily as she walked away from the Raven's garage. What was she getting into?

* * *

 

Hurley slammed the large piece of enchanted metal down on the Raven's workbench with an exhausted gasp. "There," she panted, "is your _damn_ spoiler."

"Did you have any trouble procuring it?" _So many euphemisms for stealing! Why do people even need all those words?!_

"Well the elementals and abyssals were a surprise; and you could have told me about the complex system of traps they had in place, but _otherwise_ ?" She sneered, " _peachy_."

The Raven howled with laughter, her mask rattling against the bridge of her nose. Hurley felt irritated and understandably so! The Raven had sent her, head-first and blind, into a magical trap labyrinth in search of a wagon part! But...the way she seemed to let go as she laughed, relaxing and letting all her guard down, made Hurley smile as well.

"Honestly, I thought you'd flake on me! I'm actually kinda surprised that you went through with it."

Hurley stiffened, mentally checking to make sure her mask was in place. "Why's that?"

"I mean, who would expect the militia's lieutenant would rob an illegal enchanter?" Hurley froze. "Oh, _c'mon_ ! You didn't think that I wouldn't hear about you pressing for my garage location, did you? And do you _seriously_ think that a mask and a cute updo would keep me from recognizing you? You stand out, _Ram_ , and it's obvious to those who can see it."

"But—"

"But you know what?! You haven't turned me in yet and you put on such a good show that I think I'll keep my promise. Welcome to the races, _partner_." She held out her hand to Hurley and grinned widely.

Hurley took a long look at the Raven. Beneath the feather and bone mask, her eyes were sparkling and the smile she was wearing was as sincere as she had ever been. Despite making her jump through all those awful hoops, she meant no malice by it. But was she someone Hurley could trust?

Was _Hurley_ someone _the Raven_ could trust?

She clasped hands with the Raven and shifted the mask from her face, no longer having to hide behind it. "Partners then. I'm Hurley, by the way."

"Yeah, I remember." Her words bit into Hurley's conscience.

" _Yeah_...," she drawled, waiting for an answer to the unspoken nicety.

"Sloane. And don't go telling people that or I'll have to report you to the militia." The Raven—no, _Sloane_ —winked beneath her own mask and giggled. "So, Hurley, do you know how to drive a wagon?"

"Not... _well_."

"Do you know how to fight without injuring someone?"

"Well, _yeah_!" Sloane laughed.

"Then consider yourself the defender of our wagon!" She pulled her mask up and wiped some sweat from her brow. "Now help me attach this thing. I'm gonna teach you how to fix a battlewagon."

And she complied.


	2. The Raven and the Ram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They race for the first time and Hurley realizes something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god I lost the lead here and it took forever to write but I am DONE.
> 
> HOW ABOUT THAT SUFFERING GAMES EPISODE HUH?! YEAH! TTMTT

Their first race was...something. The Raven she was wonderful! She raced with all the glory and precision and speed that she could muster. She flew down the dirt path, past the Hammerheads and the Crickets and the Hamsters. Past pylon after pylon, the bright klaxons driving her farther and farther from the throng. Faster and faster they rode, their sleek battlewagon cutting through all the spaces between attacking and defending wagons. Everything was a thousand million times more real and more tangible and more terrifying than Hurley had ever imagined and she felt free. Still, her worries ate at her despite the harness that every racer was wearing around their chest.

That's why she froze up the moment that the Jackrabbit attacker landed on the deck of their wagon.

Her mind was racing. What kind of move should she make? Should she protect the Raven? The wagon? Herself?

Before she could make a decision, a spell sung past her head and smacked the Jackrabbit right in the center of the chest, throwing them backwards off the wagon. Their bubble deployed and they bounced off into the horizon. Hurley gasped, her heart hammering.

"Are you okay?!" The Raven yelled over the din, hands at ten and two on the wheel of the wagon. "You look shook up!"

"I'll be fine!" She replied, looking back at the rest of the Jackrabbits. The one at the helm of the wagon made a gesture at her—she wasn't sure what it was, but it looked rude—and the defending Jackrabbit nodded and mirrored it. Her lips pulled into a tight frown. She looked back at the Raven. "I'm gonna go and incapacitate the Jackrabbits! I'm thinking they might be more trouble if I leave them alone!"

"Roger! I'll get closer so you have a clean shot!" The Raven steered the wagon carefully, gliding through dust and dirt to sidle up near the Jackrabbits' wagon, but just far enough that they couldn't board them without assistance. The Raven knew Hurley's skills well. She nodded at her as she prepared for the boarding by unhooking her safety harness.

She leapt forward, spinning once to get a little extra horizontal momentum, and slammed both her feet on the frankensteinian vehicle. The defending Jackrabbit lashed out with their dirk but she twisted her body so the blade just brushed past her, grazing her gi. With a horrendous yell, she used the momentum of her dodge to high-kick the Jackrabbit in the face, knocking them clean unconscious. She turned to the driving Jackrabbit and charged.

The poor dude barely had a chance.

She lowered her head and used the ram horns on her mast to head butt the Jackrabbit through the windshield. Their bubble deployed as they dropped out of sight and Hurley threw on what she assumed to be the emergency brake, snapping the lever in the process. Before the vehicle could spin out, she leapt back to the Raven's wagon and hooked herself back onto the safety rail.

"That looked really cool!" The Raven shouted over the din of the engine. "I never really got to see you in action before!"

"Thanks! Though I'm pretty sure I destroyed their emergency brake!"

"Oops!"

"Agr—watch out!" Hurley threw herself forward and took a heavy blow from a wagon coming up to them, shielding the Raven from the brunt of the javelin being hurled at them. She drew back and hissed in pain as she removed the weapon from the floor of the wagon and hurled it back at the Bull that had tossed it. "You dropped something!"

It hit the Bull in the head with the end that had been blunted by its impact with the Raven's wagon. The burly racer keeled over and Hurley hooted in excitement. "Bull's-eye!"

"That was bad!" The Raven replied, jerking the steering wheel hard to dodge around a bubbled Starfish.

"Like I care!"

"Fair enough!" They fell silent as the two of them concentrated on their jobs. Everything seemed to be going well until Hurley felt her security line snap. She looked over in fear to see a crossbow bolt buried halfway into the safety railing. Then her vision swam.

She heard someone call out—it might have been her name, it might have been an expletive, it might have been a deity's name—but everything was spinning and whirling. She wondered if this was just adrenaline gone wrong. She shifted her weight to try and counterbalance the spinning and nausea she was feeling. All that did was make her spin in a different direction.

(She vaguely remembered the rhythmic thudding of her back and shoulder and hip and butt and head against something hard. With it came more nausea and searing, sharp shards of pain piercing her skin and muscle and bone deep within.)

(She vaguely remembered the sound of her own voice ringing dully against her ears. She wasn't sure what she was saying but blood and a bit of bile tainted her lips and she hated it. She didn't want the races to be tied to that taste. She wanted it to be tied to dopamine and adrenaline. She wanted to like it. She didn't want this.)

When her vision returned, she saw the brown and gold of Goldcliff's dusty plains everywhere. Her skin, her clothes, her hair, her eyelashes. Every last bit of her was golden brown and she felt like she had been run over by one of the battlewagons. It sucked. Massively.

She could feel some sensation in her left arm and it was not pleasant. She tried to sit up and realized that putting any pressure on that arm was not going to end well because, from what she could tell, she had broken it.

"Shit," she hissed, rolling to her right side and pushing herself up using that arm instead. "Shiiiiiiit!" She probed her probably-broken arm with a swift pulse of ki and found that, while it wasn't broken, there was a hairline fracture and her shoulder was dislocated. "Great." She gritted her teeth and slammed her shoulder on the ground. Dust puffed up and she howled as her shoulder popped back into place.

Fuck it, she figured. I'll just lay here and die. The fracture isn't that big of a deal anyway. Now the Raven doesn't have to worry about me chasing her anymore. That's something.

Still, as she lay there in the dirt, she used a bit of wayward ki to heal the fracture. The pain didn't go away, which Hurley was oddly grateful for—it gave her something to focus on while she wasted away—but it certainly was healed. She stared at the sky through a cloud of yellow dust. She contemplated getting up and walking back to town. She decided to wait and see if the Raven came back for her.

Time passed—as it is wont to do—and soon the sun was set completely. If she knew her races, the race was over now. Still, the Raven had yet to come to get her.

Maybe, she hummed to herself, it's for the best. I think we're just better off as cop and robber as opposed to partners. Well, she sat up, putting weight on her left arm and wincing as a jolt of pain struck her, time to go home. She dusted off her gi and cupped a hand over her eyes to dim the glare of the sun. Turning a full circle, she found the shadow of Goldcliff and started heading that way. She unfastened her harness—now virtually useless—and tucked it under her left arm—her right still sore and throbbing. No sense in losing it. She didn't want to be in debt to the Raven any more than she already was.

Plodding away, she wondered if she had made any sort of change to the Raven or if the Raven had made a change to her. She certainly was more aware of the corruption and deception going on in Goldcliff. She'd try to be less of a hardass when it came to petty crimes, for sure, but aside from that?

The sound of an engine growing closer interrupted her musings. She tried to turn towards the sound as quickly as possible but her bruised legs protested and she crumpled to the ground instead. Her vision swam and her ears rang but she heard someone call out. She braced for impact as the screaming roar of the engine cut into the klaxons in her head but there was none.

Instead, there was the feeling of a cloak or blanket or large cloth being draped across her shoulders and someone knelt in her field of view. Her sight was still blurry, but she could vaguely make out the shape of a beaked mask facing skyward.

A voice tried to hammer itself into her head. A word, hissing and air. The person cupping her face looked concerned and said the word again. Then again. It was her name.

"Hurley!" The figure—it must have been the Raven—called. "Are you okay?"

"W...will be in a sec," Hurley raised a finger—her arm screamed in protest—and then turned and hurled. When she was done puking, she used the back of her arm to wipe away excess vomit and then gave the Raven a weak smile. "Now I'm okay."

"Shit! Don't scare me like that! I thought you were gone when you fell off!" She was shaking. Why was she shaking? "I saw you fly off and your halter deploy and then you were gone!"

"Did we win?" The Raven shook her head and Hurley's stomach sank. "Fuck...I'm sorry..."

"No, no! It's not your fault! The fucking Porcupines took out our back tire with their caltrops so we wound up not even placing. Luckily I had prepared Mend today so I got that patched up and came looking for you." She helped Hurley stand, unsteady as a newborn foal, and walked her back to the battlewagon. "I found your trail a while back, by the pylon, and found you not too soon after."

"Who...won?" The world spun slightly. The Raven guided her to the back seat of the wagon. "Cuz I need to...know."

"I think it was the Boars." She shrugged, "I don't really know. I came back for you pretty early on into my failure." When Hurley laughed, something between bitter and confused, the Raven shot her a scathing look. "I thought you were hurt!"

"Aren't there...clerics for this sort of...thing?" Laughing hurt. Okay. Don't laugh. New rule. Ow.

"Not really. All the money goes to the victor. Why do you think so many people die in the races?" Hurley shrugged.

Oh. Nope. No shrugging either.

"Well lemme just do a quick patch and we'll get you to a cleric." The Raven rubbed her hands together and grinned. "This is gonna suck. Sorry." For a moment, Hurley wondered how the Raven was going to heal her if she was an Arcane Trickster—which didn't really afford one healing spells—but she pulled out a small silver rod and pointed it at her and Hurley's world became a blur of pain, color, and an incessant ringing.

When Hurley regained consciousness for the second time that day, she felt like maybe waking up alive wasn't the coolest thing she had ever done and, just maybe, if she could just stop existing that would be nice thank you.

That is to say, she was in pain. Lots of it. And the worst part of it is it was pain that came from sore muscles and the body having knit itself back together far quicker than it was supposed to. That was the drawback to magical healing: your body still tried to fix things on its own and when there was suddenly nothing to fix, it tried to 'fix' everything at once, effectively exhausting itself. That led to the person in question feeling like absolute shit for at least twenty-four hours. Minimum.

As the blinding light of what she could only assume was the Raven's garage left coronas flickering across her spotty vision, she could make out a vague person-shaped form. She blinked rapidly to try and clear her sight and, when that didn't work, just croaked out, "Raven?"

The person-shaped blob shifted and raised their head. "Oh thank the Queen, you're awake."

"How long was I out?" Hurley's head rang with klaxons and the after images of racing wagons and the echo of her frenzied heartbeat.

The Raven blob made a vague shrugging motion with her shoulder-area. "A couple of hours."

"Fuck."

The Raven gestured up to the sky, "Moon's about midway up."

" _Fuckkkkk_." She sat up and then laid back down immediately. Her head spun and she felt sick. "Okay nope. Not doing that."

"Yeah. You had a minor concussion so when the cleric gave you the once-over they said your body would be fighting the fix for a bit." The blob shifted and Hurley felt a soothing coolness against her forehead. It felt nice. She hummed as the Raven placed another cold rag against her chest. Her bare chest. Wait.

The Raven seemed to notice her breath hitching because she let out a quick snort of laughter. "You still have your wraps on. The cleric just needed to give you the once-over. Also you were running a fever and a gi is not the coolest of clothing." She giggled, light and airy, that laugh that Hurley liked so much. "You're worried about trivial things like that right now?"

"It's not trivial to me," Hurley mumbled. The blob that was the Raven shifted uncomfortably. The edges of things were starting to sharpen up now so Hurley could see how her mouth pulled down at the corners and how her eyes fell down and to the right.

"Ah..."

"So did you get a back alley cleric to heal me?" Hurley raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh _hell_ no!" The Raven placed a hand against her chest in mock-horror. "How dare you insinuate that I would skimp on healing for my partner?"

"With _your_ track record," Hurley sniped.

"People are more important than possessions." She stated sharply. Hurley felt a wash of shame overcome her and she was sure her face was red.

The silence that followed, long and impatiently chasing the feelings that Hurley had, lingered for a bit. It was heavy, a weight that pressed on her chest and made it hard to breathe—or harder anyway. When she finally spoke up, her voice was soft and repentant. "Thank you."

"No problem."

The silence returned, slightly less oppressive but just as long. When it was parted, it was by a soft yawn from the Raven.

"Sleepy?" Hurley chuckled and regretted it again. Sleepy? What the fuck?!!!

"I had to stay up late and make sure your dumb ass didn't pass on while you were fucking KOed." The Raven smiled, despite her snide remark, and yawned again. "So yeah."

"Why don't you take a siesta while I get my brain working again. I gotta get blood and feeling back in my legs anyway." Hurley swung her legs over the edge of the cot she was laying in and winced as the world spun upon sitting up. "I don't have to be at the Militia base until high noon so I can keep watch for a bit while I recover." She smiled softly at the Raven. "Get some sleep Raven."

"If you insist," the Raven winked and then shucked off her shoes, kicking them away from where she stood, and sat down next to Hurley on the cot. "Just don't...touch my shit..."

"I won't." Hurley stood up and staggered slightly. When she righted herself, she looked back on the Raven—curled up on the cot as if she was trying to protect herself from the world at large—and let out a soft huff of laughter. "Sleep well...Sloane."

And there was the beginning of the end.


	3. Sloane and Hurley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chorus swells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so my apologies for not participating in TAZ ladies week. I just was busy with irl things and some other worries so yeah...
> 
> Anyway, here's the last chapter of Masks. It's been a wild ride (as in I could not be assed to finish this until I listened to Petals to the Metal a hundred times) and I am so glad to be here. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did and sorry if this ending seems kinda rushed lmao.
> 
> A final note for y'all: big kisses to anyone who wrote/drew a UA ending to Petals to the Metal for the canon divergence day of TAZ Ladies Week. That gave me the juice to finish this angst bomb.
> 
> Enjoy!

It had started small, their whole relationship. Excited kisses after races—won or lost, it didn't matter as adrenaline coursed through their veins and their hands roamed over skin that no one else touched—which turned into long moments spent just being with one another, which evolved into more of a statement than a presence. A companionship. Love.

Sloane had no issue admitting it. "I love you Hurley," she had whispered while she peppered the underside of her jaw with sweet kisses and small nips. "My strong, stubborn Ram."

Hurley fought it every step of the way. It wasn't that she was afraid of commitment or of Sloane hurting her, she knew Sloane too well to expect that. She had been brought up to believe that relationships of this nature between women were wrong. And that relationships between half-breeds and halflings were wrong. That the bloodline had to be kept pure and that the only reason for marriage was procreation. So when she finally said it, not in the throes of passion, riding the wave of an orgasm, but in a moment of silence and calm, it meant more than any other time she had uttered that phrase. "I love you," she murmured as Sloane just nestled her head onto her shoulder—an uncomfortable position when you were two feet taller than your paramour and she was made of nothing but muscle—"my brilliant Raven."

They were planning to be married. It was a thing they had wanted for a long time. The gap between those living in upper Goldcliff and those living in lower Goldcliff was closing; less and less people were dying of starvation or freezing to death. Things were evening out. The Trust was now a symbol of the city more than it was a symbol of opulence. So the Raven struck less and the winnings from their races went into a private account run by one of Sloane's informants. The two discussed how they had planned on doing it, a small ceremony by a cleric of the Raven Queen—odd but of the two, Sloane was the only religious one so they went with her goddess—and then they'd race the next day. Nothing big, nothing special, and nothing that would draw attention. Hurley had a job to do and Sloane was picking up more fetch quests than just outright stealing. They had to keep it on the down low.

This all changed when Sloane found the Sash.The Sash hadn't been prevalent. Not at first. It was just a little trinket that Sloane had picked up during one of her raids of the upper echelon homes; something that was hidden behind a magical lock that had given her a good spot of trouble and, because of that, she kept ahold of it.

(Or that's what Sloane told her.)

Then she started losing sleep; keeping up late at night and just staring at Hurley as she slept. Her skin started to look a bit green but she brushed that off as a new foundation she was trying. (Hurley didn't call her out on that, even though it was obvious bullshit.) Then she used magic during a race.

Do no harm, take no shit. That was their motto during races and it kept the fatality count down. But when the Sparrows slashed the wheels of their battlewagon, Sloane's face darkened and she raised her hand and pointed. Vines, thick and covered in sword-like spines, erupted from the ground and engulfed their wagon. The screams erupting from the mass of tendrils sent chills up Hurley's spine and she almost hurled but she had to keep driving. She couldn't stop then.

After the race, however, she cornered Sloane. "What the _shit_ was that?!"

"A spell," Sloane responded monotonously.

"No, not the fucking spell—though I have some questions about that as well—but why the _fuck_ did you do that?! You _killed_ people, Sloane! The Sparrows were young! Younger than you and I! And now they're dead at your hand!" Her face was flushed, chest heaving as she screamed at her fiancée.

Sloane blinked at Hurley. "So what? If they're racing, they know the consequences. People die."

"Not kids!"

"I beg to differ," she looked off to the rising moon and frowned. "Why does it bother you? Were you sleeping with them?"

A slap rung out and Sloane held on to her cheek, gingerly brushing the pads of her fingers across the slowly swelling spot. Something malicious flashed across her face but it was swallowed by horror and disgust. "Wh-what did I _do_?"

"Fuck you, Sloane."

"No! _Hurley_!" She reached out a hand and, unconsciously, a vine wrapped around Hurley's arm and tried to drag her back to her.

Hurley sent a pulse of ki through the vine and shredded it. She glared at Sloane, horror and fear streaking through her facial expressions, and then turned away and walked off.

"What did I _do_?" Sloane softly asked herself. "What have I _done_?"

When they met again, it was as cop and robber once more. Their relationship had regressed back to as it was when they first met. Professional and antagonistic. Only this time, there was a huge power imbalance. Sloane, with whatever it was that was granting her such fine control over nature, took whatever she wanted without concern for others and with little care for neither collateral damage nor murder.

Hurley was torn. Where had her canny Raven gone?! Where had her pretty Sloane gone? Where had the woman who jokingly courted her and lovingly kissed her gone?

Whatever this was, it _wasn't_ Sloane.

The Trust was taken. She knew now. What good is a mortal against the powers of a goddess? Not very, that's what. But she had to save her. She had to make sure they were okay.

"I have to beat her. If I beat her, she'll know her power isn't perfect and she'll be willing to give it up."

Excuses. Excuses.

But those three men, those three oddballs who caused as much destruction as they prevented, came through. They beat Sloane in the races. They _won_!

And it _still_ went to shit.

Whatever modicum of resistance Sloane had once had over the Sash disappeared as soon as she realized she could lose. Vines and wind and lighting and a downpour erupted everywhere and she threw herself off the cliff.

And they fought. And they won, in a way.

The Silverpoint coursed through Hurley's veins, burning every cell of her body as she inhaled weakly. Sloane cradled her gently, tears dripping down on her face, and hummed an old elven song. "You're in _trouble_ ," Hurley sang, her whole body humming with pain.

"I'm _so_ , so sorry Hurley. My Ram. My precious Ram." Sloane pressed her forehead against Hurley's and sobbed.

"Hey, at least it's _you_."

"I—" she broke off and hiccuped. Hurley reached up weakly and brushed a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry Sloane. I'm still here."

"But you _won't_ be!"

"Everyone dies in the end. It's the cycle of life. I'm just in the last bit prematurely."

"It's _my_ fault!"

"It's that _Sash's_ fault. Don't blame yourself." Hurley smiled up at her and reached up with one shuddering hand to caress her cheek.

" _But_ —!"

They could vaguely hear the three men who helped Hurley yelling and arguing. They didn't care. The world was just the two of them. No one else mattered.

"I—I have an idea." Sloane turned to face the men and said something, Hurley could barely hear because of the ringing in her ears. Then she turned back to Hurley, "Would you like to be with me forever?"

A wide grin spread across Hurley's face. "Yeah, I'd like that very much."

"Then hold on."

Magic surrounded the two of them, ancient and powerful. Hurley could feel the call of the Sash beat against her will but it was weak. Their love kept it at bay. It wasn't like before, wild and angry, but softer and more pliant. It wrapped the two of them up in a blanket of arcane power and then the line where Hurley began and Sloane ended disappeared. Their arms stretched upwards, fingers spreading to receive the warmth of the sun. Leave budded and bloomed and blossoms bloomed as well, scattering pink petals to the wind. Their masks lay in front of them as they planted their feet deep within the soil of Goldcliff, the Sash draped in front of them.

Hurley and Sloane, or what little remained of their individual personalities, sighed in joy as they embraced. This was their forever now.

And maybe, even if things went to shit, they could handle this. Sure, no more racing, and sure, they'd never be able to actually hold one another, but their love would last until the tree they now were withered.

(And long after the call of the Sash disappeared and everyone forgot about Sloane and Hurley, young lovers would visit the tree in the center of Goldcliff to place their and their partners engagement masks in their branches. And it's said that, so long as your masks remained in the tree, your love would flourish and bloom.)


End file.
